Wednesday, 05/02/2001, 7:08 p.m.
Darkness wrapped Domino City like a winter coat.
The clouds and smoke gave a gray touch to the sky, and every now and then, a few starlights filtered through the holes in a constantly shifting firmament.
Walking through the bustle of the city—its scent of smog, concrete, and indistinguishable perfumes—was Shin Osako, dressed in his dark blue school uniform, backpack over one shoulder and a serene expression. His pace was quick, cutting through the crowd...
Several minutes later, Shin's pace slowed as he turned a corner. A busy bar appeared before him. Its front was narrow, wedged between a closed laundromat and an erotic magazine shop. The neon sign flickered weakly, with only three indistinct characters lit. The wooden entrance was swollen with humidity, its peeling white paint revealing dark grains beneath. A handwritten sign hung from a crooked string that read "Open," on brown cardboard.
From inside the establishment came a thick blend of cigarette smoke, cheap liquor, and diluted disinfectant. The warm, yellowish, dirty light escaped through the gap of the half-open door, casting shifting shadows on the sidewalk.
Shin entered behind a pair of middle-aged men with dull appearances.
Inside, a rusty fan turned with difficulty above the entrance. The shifting hum of conversations, laughter, and an old radio filled the atmosphere. The cluttered voice of the man on the radio stood out from the rest, his tone mocking, his accent from Tokyo.
"{…And well, that's what I told him… if he kept coming home drunk, I wouldn't let him in anymore… but you know how they are… anyway, let's move on with a song requested from Saitama, for Yukiko, who says she's working overtime tonight… here comes 'First Love' by Hikaru Utada…}"
Walking between the tables and customers, Shin made his way to the bar. There stood an elderly, short, and thin woman with a sickly look, wrinkled skin, and dressed in a white apron with gray teddy bears, her expression bored. Along the way, the sound of music, the clicking of lighters, and the mild chatter of the patrons blended together. A woman's voice sang from the radio.
"{You will always be my first love…
even if I'm with someone else,
deep in my heart…
I'll never forget you…}"
Shin entered the bar area through the small security door and spoke loudly to the elderly woman over the noise. His eyes wandered through the place with a trace of confusion.
"Good evening, Mrs. Kosaka. Am I late?"
Mrs. Kosaka glanced at him and smiled wearily as she filled a tall glass with soda and some alcoholic drink that smelled of shochu.
"Hey, kid. No need to look for him. Matsuura quit this afternoon. Go change in the back, come on. There's work to be done."
Shin nodded with a slight grimace and quickly entered the backroom of the bar...
A few minutes later, Shin returned to the counter wearing a wrinkled white shirt, the collar open and the sleeves poorly rolled up to his elbows. Over it, he wore a black cloth vest, slightly frayed at the edges, and a short apron stained with old grease and alcohol. He still wore the same school uniform pants, and a regular blue pen stuck out from the chest pocket.
Then, Shin took over Mrs. Kosaka's place behind the counter while she began cooking some sausages on the stove.
Between preparing drinks, jotting down orders, serving dishes, and attending to the customers' needs, over an hour passed...
A plastic wall clock shaped like an owl behind the bar marked '8:45 p.m.' with a repetitive ticking sound.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
At that moment, Shin was serving umeshu and karaage to a half-drunk, fat customer, when the door opened and two suited men entered. The first was a middle-aged man, tall and stocky, with short brown hair slightly graying, sharp features, and haughty black eyes. His stride was confident and his expression full of disdain. He wore dark blue and carried a synthetic black briefcase in his right hand. The second man looked slightly younger, average in height, slim build, sharp features, medium-length black hair, a slight beard, and brown eyes. His pace was calm and his expression serene. He wore gray and carried a brown leather briefcase in his left hand.
The arrival of both men drew brief attention from some of the other customers, who returned to their business once the newcomers took a seat in a vacant corner of the bar. Shin's eyes lingered a bit too long on the figure of the second man; a slight smile twisted the corner of his lips. A moment later, he looked away and continued his work...
The two men had set their briefcases beside their seats. The haughty-looking man, relaxed in his chair, spoke while lighting a cigarette with his lighter, his expression serious and tone irritated.
"Huh... Do you have the prototype?"
The other man did not respond, his face pale as he stared toward the bar with his arm half-raised. Shin was the focus of his gaze.
Noticing his companion's strange behavior, the middle-aged man cleared his throat and asked in a puzzled tone.
"Ahem. Is something wrong, Nishimura?"
Snapping out of his daze, Nishimura looked away from Shin, sweating slightly, then spoke to the sharp-faced man haltingly, his expression agitated.
"Uh-uh? Were you saying something, Mr. Morita?"
Morita clicked his tongue and asked in an irritated voice while taking a long drag from his cigarette.
"Tch... I asked if we can do business. Though you seem to have other... priorities."
Morita's eyes briefly rested on Shin. His expression shifted to one of confusion. Another question slipped from his dark lips.
"Do you happen to know that young man?"
Nishimura's face darkened. His words came out with evident bitterness.
"The prototype is not with me, sir. This place isn't suited for such talk, and you know it well. We should focus on the matter at hand."
Morita kept smoking, his expression turning bored as he murmured.
"Of course, of course. The much-discussed acquisition. Kaiba Corporation is becoming a more tempting pie these days... Dropping all those juicy pieces, unbelievable. It would be irresponsible to waste something like that, wouldn't it, Mr. Nishimura?"
Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Morita smiled before continuing in a mocking tone. Nishimura returned the gaze tensely.
"Of course, small fish like us are in no position to fight the real sharks in the pond, not even for the tiniest scraps. All we can do is watch others feed and maybe, with luck... grab a crumb or two."
Snubbing out his cigarette in the round glass ashtray at the center of the table, Morita shook his head and raised his hand.
"Nishimura, my friend, you can't think on an empty stomach. Don't you think? Waiter!"
Hearing Morita's call, Shin finished delivering an order of yakitori to a group of elderly men and then approached the table where Nishimura and the aforementioned man were seated.
Once there, Shin spoke in a polite tone.
"Good evening, gentlemen. What will you be having?"Wednesday, 05/02/2001, 7:08 p.m.
Darkness wrapped around Domino City like a winter coat.
The clouds and smoke tinged the sky with gray, and the light of a few stars filtered through several gaps in a constantly shifting firmament.
Walking amid the bustle of the city, with its smell of smog, concrete, and indistinguishable perfumes, was Shin Osako, dressed in his dark blue school uniform, backpack over one shoulder and a serene expression on his face. His pace was brisk, weaving through the crowd...
A few minutes later, Shin slowed down after turning a corner. A busy bar appeared before him. Its front was narrow, wedged between a closed laundromat and an erotic magazine store. The neon sign flickered weakly, showing three lit letters in indistinct characters. The entrance wood was swollen from humidity, with chipped white paint revealing dark streaks. A hand-written sign hung from a twisted string reading 'Open,' on a piece of brown cardboard.
From inside the establishment came a thick mix of cigarette smoke, cheap liquor, and diluted disinfectant. A yellowish, warm, and grimy light spilled out through the crack in the half-open door, casting flickering shadows on the sidewalk.
Shin entered the place behind a pair of dull-looking middle-aged men.
Inside, a rusty fan turned with difficulty above the bar's entrance. The shifting buzz of conversations, laughter, and an old radio completed the atmosphere. The hoarse voice of the man on the radio stood out above the rest, with his Tokyo accent and mocking tone.
"{… And well, that's what I told him… that if he kept showing up drunk, I wouldn't let him in anymore… but you know how they are… anyway, up next is a song requested from Saitama, for Yukiko, who says she's working overtime tonight… here's 'First Love,' by Hikaru Utada…}"
Walking between tables and customers, Shin headed to the bar counter. There sat a frail-looking, short, elderly woman, her skin wrinkled and wearing a white apron with gray teddy bears, her expression bored. Along the way, the sound of music mixed with the click of lighters and the soft chatter of those present. A song played on the radio, sung by a woman.
"{You will always be my first love…
even if I'm with someone else,
deep in my heart…
I'll never forget you…}"
Shin entered the bar counter through the small staff gate and spoke to the old woman loudly over the noise of the place. His eyes scanned the bar with some confusion.
"Good evening, Mrs. Kosaka. Am I late?"
The old woman glanced at Shin from the corner of her eye and smiled with a tired look. Her hands were filling a tall glass with soda and some kind of alcohol smelling like shochu.
"Hey there, boy. Don't bother looking. Matsuura quit this afternoon, go change in the back, come on. There's work to do."
Shin nodded with a slight grimace and then entered the back room of the bar at a quick pace...
A few minutes later, Shin returned to the bar wearing a wrinkled white shirt, collar open and sleeves badly rolled up to the elbows. He had on a black fabric vest, slightly frayed at the edges, and a short apron stained with old grease and alcohol. The pants were the same from his school uniform, and a plain blue pen peeked from his chest pocket.
Right after, Shin took Mrs. Kosaka's place behind the bar while she started cooking some sausages on the stove.
Between preparing drinks, writing down and serving orders, and attending to the rest of the customers' needs, an hour or so passed in the place...
A plastic wall clock shaped like an owl behind the bar showed '8:45 p.m.' with a repetitive ticking.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
At that moment, Shin was serving umeshu and karaage to a half-drunk fat customer, when the door opened and two men in suits entered. The first was a middle-aged man, tall and broad-shouldered, with short brown hair slightly graying, sharp features, and haughty black eyes. His stride was confident, and his expression disdainful. He wore dark blue and held a synthetic black briefcase in his right hand. The second was a slightly younger man, of average height, slim build, defined features, medium black hair, a light beard, and brown eyes. His steps were calm, and his expression serene. He wore gray and carried a brown leather briefcase in his left hand.
Both men briefly drew the attention of some of the other customers. But that interest faded when the newcomers took a seat in an empty corner of the bar. Shin's gaze lingered a little too long on the second man's figure, a slight smile curling at the corner of his lips. A moment later, he looked away and continued with his work...
The two men had placed their briefcases next to their respective seats. The one with the haughty look, now relaxed in his seat, spoke up while lighting a cigarette with his lighter, his expression serious and tone annoyed.
"Huuu... Do you have the prototype?"
The other man didn't respond, his face pale as he looked toward the bar with his arm half-raised. Shin was the target of his gaze.
Noticing his companion's strange behavior, the middle-aged man cleared his throat and asked with a puzzled tone.
"Ahem. Is something wrong, Nishimura?"
Snapping out of his stupor, Nishimura looked away from Shin, visibly sweaty, and then spoke to the man with the stern face, his demeanor agitated and tone unsteady.
"Uh-uh? Did you say something, Mr. Morita?"
Morita clicked his tongue and then asked with an irritated voice while taking a long drag from his cigarette.
"Tch... I asked if we can do business. Though you seem to have... other priorities."
Morita's eyes briefly settled on Shin. His expression turned puzzled. Another question escaped his dark lips.
"Do you know that young man, by any chance?"
Nishimura's expression darkened. His words came out with evident bitterness.
"The prototype's not with me, sir. This isn't the place to talk about something like that, and you know it well. We should focus on what matters."
Morita kept smoking, his expression turning bored as he muttered.
"Of course, of course. The much-talked-about acquisition. Kaiba Corporation is becoming a more tempting pie by the day... Shedding all those juicy pieces, what madness. It would be irresponsible to waste something like that, wouldn't it, Mr. Nishimura?"
Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Morita smiled before continuing in a mocking tone. Nishimura returned his gaze with obvious tension.
"Of course, small fish like us are in no position to fight the real sharks in the pond, not even for the smallest scraps. All we can do is watch others feed and maybe, with some luck... snatch a crumb or two if we band together."
Snuffing out his cigarette in the round glass ashtray at the center of the table, Morita shook his head while raising his hand.
"But Nishimura, my friend, you can't think on an empty stomach. Don't you agree? Waiter!"
Hearing Morita's call, Shin finished delivering a yakitori order to a group of elderly men and then approached the table where Nishimura and the aforementioned man were seated.
Once there, Shin spoke in a polite tone.
"Good evening, gentlemen. What would you like to order?"